Good Morning Sunshine
by EricaOswin
Summary: "We're gonna be okay, Alex. Even if everything else isn't." {Malex. Part One in the "Morning Light" series}


Alex eases across the living room floor, her bare feet deftly skipping over any creaky spots in the wooden floors. She pauses when she gets to the doorway of the kitchen, peering in but not stepping over the threshold. The early morning sun paints the kitchen a lazy, warm orange and the windows are pushed all the way up, letting in cool bursts of the late, autumn air.

Michael bends in front of the refrigerator, digging for something on the bottom shelf. He's humming to himself and as Alex steps closer, she recognizes the tune.

"Sail, by AWOL nation." She stands on the side of the counter opposite him. He tenses momentarily and then relaxes when he realizes it's just her.

"Gold star," he says, head still in the refrigerator. Alex rolls her eyes. It's been almost five years since he trained her at Division; if he was still stuck in teacher mode now, then it was probably a permanent thing.

"You're up early," Michael says, straightening back up. His arms are full of food; eggs, sausages, bacon, turkey bacon, waffle mix, chocolate chips and bananas. He sets it all on the counter and begins sorting through it.

"I've been awake for hours," Alex shrugs. "I just didn't have a reason to move around."

"Until now."

"Until now," she echoes, looking over her shoulder. She slips behind both the counter and Michael, wrapping her arms around his waist.

"Alex," he warns. "Everyone is home."

"And everyone is asleep. I checked." She presses her cheek into his back, enjoying the feel of his body pressed against hers.

"Stubborn as always."

She can tell he's fighting a smile, even if she can't see his face. She grins. "Well, if you hugged me more often, I probably wouldn't be so stubborn." It's a joke, but she tightens her grip on him nonetheless.

"Well, if you weren't so stubborn I'd probably hug you more often." Michael runs his thumb over the back of her hand that's sitting on his stomach. Probably the maximum amount of physical affection she'd get from him until they were _completely_ alone.

"Very cute."

He chuckles in response.

"Why are you up so early?" Alex asks after a few seconds.

"I've been up since 2:00 AM. The dad in me figured if I can't sleep, I might as well do something useful." He shrugs and the fabric of his navy blue tee shirt crinkles against her skin.

"So, you're making everyone breakfast."

"Mmm-hmm." He cracks open the egg carton, making sure all of the twelve eggs are there and uncracked. The breakfast meats are already arranged in a neat line, sorted by cooking time. Sausages first, then beef bacon and turkey bacon last. "Do you remember everybody's meat preferences? I know Nikita doesn't eat meat. Birkhoff likes beef bacon…Ryan eats…?"

"Ryan eats turkey bacon, just like me." The usual cook of the house, Alex has long since memorized everybody's likes and dislikes regarding any and all food. "And Sean eats beef bacon like you and Birkhoff."

"Ah. And the sausages are for…?"

"Everybody except Nikita."

"I guess you will be useful this morning." And this time, when she looks up she can see the corners of his mouth curled into a smile. She knocks his knee forward so it bangs the cabinet door in front of him. He laughs; that's nothing to a former soldier.

x

When all the seasonings are set out, eggs removed from the carton, meat packages open, fruits examined for freshness and waffle mix ready to be stirred, Alex still has her arms wrapped around Michael.

"I thought you said you were going to help me," Michael says, trying once again to move from the spot she was anchoring him to.

"I am."

He looks down at her, mildly amused. "As nice and…warm as this is, it's actually an impediment."

She tightens her grip on him once again, grinning. "If you'd just _hug_me I'd let go."

"Maybe I don't want you to." He sets one of the bowls down and twists around, wrapping his arms around the younger woman. She bites her lip to keep from smiling too hard. A whiff of his cologne hits her nose and for a moment it dominates everything. His shirt wrinkles in her ear as his arm moves up and down, running a hand through her long brown locks. Alex pulls him closer, turning her face so the other cheek lies against his chest.

She can hear his heart beating.

After he bends down to kiss the top of her head, she pulls away, mocking him. "Everyone is home, Michael."

"I know." He kisses her again, this time on her temple. "And they're all asleep."

Alex sighs, sinking back into him. "How long do we have to keep this up?" It's not really a question; just a statement to show her frustration.

Michael exhales over her head, his cool breath tickling her scalp. "I don't know." He toys with a piece of her hair absentmindedly.

"I hate sneaking around."

"I know. I do too."

"It makes me feel like 'the other woman,'" Alex rolls her eyes and buries her face in his chest.

"There is no other woman, Alex," he says, sounding amused.

"Yeah, but it makes me _feel_ like that. Like I'm just some common whore and you're the lying, cold hearted bastard.

"Alex if you were a whore there'd be absolutely nothing common about you. You'd be a high class whore, at the very least."

Alex lets out a snort of laughter, surprised by the comment. "You're supposed to say 'No, Alex, you're too good to be other woman,'" she says, imitating the guttural quality of his voice.

"First, I don't sound like that," he winces when she lands a punch on his arm. "Second…well, there is no second."

She punches him again.

"You're such an asshole." She untangles herself from him and steps away. She's not mad at him. Mad at the situation, maybe, but not him. Besides, she's not sure if she can handle any less affection than what she's getting now. Spy or not, she's still a girl.

"All I'm saying is, it'd be nice to wake up one morning with you next to me saying 'Good morning sunshine,' or 'Good morning beautiful,' or…something." Alex mumbles, shrugging. She picks up the bowl of waffle mix and tests it with the spoon.

Michael catches her wrist and pulls back to him, holding her close. He kisses her forehead, then the tip of her nose. "Good morning, sunshine." He smiles, pressing a soft kiss to her lips. It's completely chaste, but it creates a small fluttering in her stomach all the same.

"Good morning, handsome," she laughs, reaching up for another kiss.

When they break apart, there's a mutual sigh of disappointment; the shared knowledge that for the foreseeable future, their relationship would consist of stolen kisses and hidden moments.

"I should get started on those waffles," Alex says after a moment. She steps away from Michael.

x

For the next few minutes the two work in perfect harmony, Alex chopping the peppers and onions for the omelets and Michael frying sausages. The sound of the blade hitting the cutting board over and over again is muted by the metal on metal clinks and clanks of the whisk hitting the sides of the mixing bowl, as Michael beats the eggs. When it's time to flip the second batch of waffles, Alex artfully ducks under Michael's arms as he carries the sausages from pan to plate via the spatula. They easily slide past each other when Alex needs more chocolate chips and Michael needs more lemon pepper.

They're in sync, in tune and they easily fall into each other's steps.

They make a good pair and they both know it.

When all the chopping and cutting is done and third batch of waffles set to cook for the next few minutes, Alex climbs up on the counter, sitting with the bag of chocolate chips in her lap.

She watches Michael work, taking note of everything; the way he runs his hand over the spot below his left ear every few minutes, the way the muscles in his arms contract with ever flip of the spatula and how he tilts his head to the right whenever he has nothing to do for the moment. And of course, the way his blue and white plaid pajamas fit across his butt.

"You're quiet this morning," Michael observes. He wipes his hands on a towel then throws it over his shoulder.

Alex shrugs.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing." She pops a chocolate chip in her mouth and begins kicking her legs up and down.

"Nothing?" he asks, cocking an eyebrow. "You haven't flashed you 'Little Miss Moscow' smile once this morning," he says, referencing her days as a pageant girl.

"I should have never told you guys about that." She shakes her head. She told them about her short career as a pageant girl during a drunken game of Confession. During that very same game, Ryan outed himself and Birkhoff admitted he didn't lose his virginity until he was twenty-three.

"It's cute. And so is your smile." Michael puts his hands on the counter on either side of her, filling up her world. "So why haven't you used it this morning?"

Alex shrugs, biting her lip. "Nothing, it's just…" she trails off and Michael looks at her expectantly. "You and Nikita have been broken up for four months. Don't you think that's more than enough time for her to get over you?" The thought makes her feel like a heartless bitch. Saying it out loud makes her feel even worse.

Michael sighs and looks down. "We were together for five years, Alex. _Five years_. Four months just doesn't erase that."

"I know, but…" she trails off again. She runs a finger up and down his arm, fingernail grazing his warm skin. "Nikita's not the typical neurotic, low self-esteemed woman. Don't you think she can handle the fact that you moved on?"

"Moved on with her best friend? One of the very few people she's close to?" Michael straightens back up. "You know she considers us her family, right? We began sneaking around not even two days after I broke things off."

Once upon a time that argument would've made her feel guilty. Now it just frustrates her. "We never even did anything _wrong_." she says.

And it it's true. Alex and Michael didn't have an affair. They didn't make love in Nikita's bed or in a closet. They didn't run off for secret dates and there were no angst ridden confessions of love and lust. There was a kiss, a single kiss, during a drunken party. And even that wasn't wrong-Michael and Nikita were in the middle of a three week break up.

And now, four months later-even though they actually are together-the two have yet to have sex.

"I know that," he says. He kisses her forehead. "But she's still my friend and yours and I don't like seeing her hurt."

Alex puts her hands on his waist and pulls him closer. "I know. Watching her cry is like watching a bunny get beaten to death."

Michael chuckles. She likes the sound; deep and gravelly and sexy and for some reason, it reminded her of watching the sun rise.

It makes her smile.

"There it is," Michael murmurs. He pokes her left dimple, closing the space between them. "Little Miss Moscow."

"You're never going to stop calling me that, are you?"

He shakes his head no and pulls Alex into a kiss. She's always surprised by how soft his lips are. Soft and warm and each time they kiss her, it's like they're breathing life into her. He works his mouth against hers and when she parts her lips, his tongue finds its way in. Her stomach begins to flutter again and an involuntary giggle escapes her.

Michael pulls away slightly. "What?" His warm breath tickles her bottom lip.

"Nothing." She shakes her head, light brown curls swaying with the motion. She traces his bottom lip with her pinkie and he pulls hand away and lifts it, kissing the tip of it. He does it four more times, a kiss for each finger and then the palm of her hand. Alex licks her lips, suppressing another giggle.

His lips find their way back to hers and the moment they do, she wraps her legs around his waist, locking him in place.

He makes a noise between a moan and a protest and Alex ignores it, pulling him closer. She nibbles on his bottom lip, loving the way it makes him sighs in her mouth.

He pulls away a moment later though; his hands resting on her hips, standing less than an inch away from her. "Everyone is home," he mumbles. He pecks her forehead.

Alex groans. "And I'm sure they all can tell how sexually deprived I am."

Occasionally, Alexandra Udinov was a whiner.

He gives her a look that's a mixture of surprise and amusement. They haven't had sex yet, and they've never actually discussed that fact. Well, not in detail, anyway.

Michael clears his throat. "How are you using the word deprived? We've only been together-"

"For _four_ months." Alex cuts in, wrapping her arms around his neck. "I'm tired of playing with myself," she murmurs, pecking him on the lips.

He lets out an awkward cough and then clears his throat again. "We…uh...should _not_ talk about things like…_that_ while cooking breakfast for our...friends." He stutters through the sentence, then looks away.

Alex smirks.

"When is the proper time to talk about things like…_that?"_she says, imitating him. She unwraps her arms from around his neck and leans back on the counter, legs still around him. Michael was such a gentleman. Probably the only guy on earth who didn't talk about his sex life. And Alex's bedroom was right beside Michael's and Nikita's old one. She knew first hand he had something to brag about.

"Not here. Not now." He clears his throat yet again. She could swear there was hint of pink on his cheeks.

"Oh my god, are you blushing?" Alex laughs. "I made a soldier blush. Goal in life? Achieved."

"I wasn't blushing okay?" He untangles her legs from around him and steps back. "I was…" He trails off.

"And now you're at a loss for words!" she exclaims, eyes wide. "Oh my god! Michael the Saint!"

"Stop, it's nothing, okay. Just…nothing." He turns away, but Alex has already seen the full on blush. She has to bite her lip to keep from saying 'Aww.'

"It _is_nothing." she says after a moment. "Everyone does it. Even you, right?"

"Don't you have waffles to flip?"

"Everyone does what?" A voice asks behind them. It's followed by a yawn and the sound of slight footsteps. Nikita walks into the kitchen and looks at Alex expectantly.

"Masturbates," she shrugs, pretending her heart rate _didn't_ just accelerate.

Nikita laughs. "Masturbation and cooking. I'm pretty sure that violates basic hygiene."

"Not unless you have a food fetish. Then it's just a good time." Both girls laugh, and Alex can feel herself relaxing. Nikita was still her friend. Her closest friend. And in no reality did she ever want to lose her.

"You girls are so…" Michael shakes his head, and goes back to cooking. They both watch as he lays strips of bacon in the frying pan.

"You never did answer the question, though," Alex says. If he thought she was dropping the subject just because of Nikita, he was so, so wrong.

"What, about whether or not Mikey masturbates? He does," Nikita confirms, climbing atop the counter. She sits next to Alex, who tries not to cringe at the use of Michael's nickname.

"Hey," he cuts in sharply.

"He's so polite with it though. He does it late at night so he doesn't disturb anybody." Nikita smiles. There's no malice or hate to it. She's just joking around.

"Or so nobody disturbs _him_," Alex jokes.

"Please stop talking about me like I'm not in the room."

"Would you rather we do it when you're not actually here?" Alex asks.

"Well…no. If you two are this bad when I'm here, I don't want to see you guys alone. Or with alcohol." He cringes at the thought.

"Ooh…Lexi we should have a girls' night."

"With lots of Tequila."

"And chocolate."

"We should invite Cassandra, so you can both tell me stories about Michael." Alex wiggles her eyebrows suggestively.

"And then we can invite Sonya. Then you two could tell _us_ about Birkhoff."

"Crap. No one we know has slept with Sean."

"Damn," Nikita sighs. "I guess we'll have to leave that up to our imagination."

"It's ridiculous the way you two objectify men," Michael cuts in, before they can go any further.

"It's an art, really," Nikita shrugs.

Michael shakes his head once again, and turns to flip the bacon.

While he's preoccupied with cooking, Alex tilts her head towards Nikita. "We do talk about sex a lot."

Nikita shrugs and whispers, "You only live once."

Alex giggles.

"What are you two whispering about?" he asks, throwing them a look over his shoulder.

"Stop being paranoid, Mikey. If we were talking about you we'd be loud and proud."

"Exactly," Alex echoes.

"You guys never went to church when you were younger, did you?" The answer to that is obvious.

"No, but sometimes when we're drunk and at a bar we pretend to be Katie and Annabeth, two best friends from an Amish community who just moved to the city."

He stares at them blankly.

"Oh stop judging us," Nikita waves him away.

"I could really use some help with the coffee," Michael says slowly. It's a signal for them to stop talking. They both know it.

Nikita climbs off the counter-smirking-and heads toward the pantry, where the coffee maker is stashed. "Are those chocolate chip waffles?" She asks, sniffing the air as she walks past the waffle iron. "My favorite."

"That's why we made them," Michael says, putting the bacon on a plate.

He covers the plate with a napkin and sets it down on the counter beside Alex. "Soon, Alex. I promise," he whispers, dropping a kiss on her bare shoulder. She nods, a small smile on her lips.

Nikita comes back into the kitchen, setting the red coffee maker on the counter. "Lexi can you hand me the coffee mix?"

"Sure." She hops down off the counter and crosses the kitchen. The coffee mix is in the cabinet above the sink, and Alex, who's on the short side, has to stand on her tippy-toes to reach it. Her fingers are just dusting the edge of the red lid when she feels a large hand on her side. It's heavy and warm and it makes her falter.

"Excuse me," Michael says. He reaches around her and grabs the spatula from the dish rack.

The touch was brief and innocent and yet it still makes Alex feel like her skin has been electrified. She flashes him a smile-one he returns-and steps around him. When she looks up Nikita is watching them. Her eyes are on the part of her body where Michael's hand was.

When they meet eyes again, Nikita gives her a tragic smile.

She knows.

Alex knows she knows. And when Michael looks up and sees the exchange between them, he knows she knows too.

Alex doesn't know what to say. For months she's waited for this moment, when they would come clean to Nikita and nothing about them or their relationship would be in the dark anymore. But for all the days she fantasized about this, all the scenarios that played out in her mind over the months, she never once considered the look in Nikita's eyes.

Hurt. Pain. Betrayal. Confusion. Hate. Disbelief. All the emotions Alex went through when she discovered the truth about her father's death.

All the emotions she never wanted Nikita to experience.

"The boys…they can fix their own coffee." Nikita is the first to break the silence. "I don't know how they like their cups anyway." She waves her hand and turns away, her back facing Michael and Alex. "I should probably go wake them now." She walks out the kitchen.

They stand still and do nothing. They stare away from each other and say no words. It's what they wanted. Or, what they thought they wanted.

But you can't really control these types of things, can you? One bad thing replaces a good thing. A good thing soon turns bad. It's a cycle and soon you lose track of where you stand in it.

Michael wraps his arms around Alex. "Hey," he says resting his chin on the crown of her head. "We're going to be okay. Even if everything else isn't."

Alex smiles, only because it feels like she should. ""You sure about that?"

"…No. But at the very least, you can now have those mornings you wanted, sunshine."

She tilts her head back and kisses him. "That's right handsome."

Birkhoff comes downstairs a few minutes later. Then Sean. Then Ryan. Nikita doesn't, though. But that's fine.

Everything is going to be okay. Even if it isn't.

* * *

Believe it or not, that was a happy ending. Just...a little farther away I guess. *shrugs*

As usual, reviews are love c:


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